Chapter 13
“Summerby General.” The general looked up.
“Abdul Rashid, was this the German, the man you came here to stop.” The Generals voice was barely more than a croak.
The tall Arab nodded, his hard face cast into shadows and flat planes under the bright light of the oil lamp.
“May God ensure that he suffers a thousand lifetimes of torment for what he has done. My family is avenged. Now we must destroy the book and my oath is fulfilled.”
The General looked at Lieutenant Fowler then around the room with its broken table and chairs, smashed shelves, pottery and odd powders spread on the floor.
“Did, did.” The general coughed to clear his throat.
“Did anyone find this cursed book?”
Fowler shook his head. “No general, everything is as we found it. Just this fellow. We saw no one else and that corridor is the only way in.”
Rashid interrupted. “The book is large, two feet each side. We must find it.”
Lieutenant Fowler shrugged his shoulders then gestured around the small room. “I’m sorry, it’s not here. There is nowhere to hide anything of any size, we have already looked.”
The Arab took several steps into the room and with his free hand swept the few remaining pots and boxes off the shelves to hatter on the floor. “It must be here, God led me here, the book must be here!”
Having turned over every piece of debris in the room the Arab turned angrily towards the door with every intention of leaving.
“STOP.” General Summerby’s voice echoed in the small room. “We only have one lamp.”
Abdul Rashid paused, he glanced from the general to the oil lamp and back. Then he hung his head in acceptance of the situation.
Summerby walked across the disheartened man and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I have no less desire to have this ended that you do but running around in the darkness achieves nothing. Light the way out for us and I will send a squad of men with every lantern we possess to tear every square foot of this place apart. If the book is here we will find it, but we will search for it properly, carefully. Do you understand me?”
When Rashid nodded the general turned to the men of his command. “Gentlemen, let us leave this place.”
#
The journey back to the surface was without further adventure and soon all of them were blinking as they stepped back into the bright light of the sun. Orders were given to bring additional oil lamps and sergeant Troutman was detailed to assemble a squad to search the building and underground rooms carefully alongside Rashid.
The other officers separated to take command of various parts of the town and supervise the continuing search for any remaining walking corpses or other threats.
By the time the sun was low in the hills the town was declared secure, no remaining threat had been uncovered and every building and room had been searched. Given the reputation the place had gained no one was willing to spend the night and so the entire force withdrew back to the fortified camp site beside the road. Guards were posted to watch for any activity in the town during the darkness but aside from that unlucky few every other man returned to the camp.
In order to deal with the state of the British soldiers the General ordered the East India Company to take over all guard posts for the night. The officer commanding that force considered arguing but having heard the many stories of the days fighting and having looked the general in the eye he did no more than salute and walk away to assign his men to their new posts.
Overnight there were a few false alarms, frightened men fired at shadows or shrub bushes stirred by a light breeze. No one slept well and by dawn the entire force was tired and either angry of fearful. Sergeants came down hard on any attitude or disobedience and outwardly the camp returned to normal, differently only in the lack of red coats on sight.
As soon as the sun was touching the horizon a courier was made ready. He was given reports and dispatches for Cairo, most urgent. Reinforcements, supplies and everything else the force would need. As the rider walked his horse to the edge of the camp he was again approached by the doctor who added another letter to the message pouch slung over the couriers shoulder.
The first task that day was burial. So many had died and it had taken so long to secure the town that those who had fallen during the day had been placed in several intact buildings in the town. Now before the heat of the day did its work every walking soldier was assembled along with all of the native workers and levy.
Rather than individual graves large trenches were dug, one for each platoon. Second platoons trench being by far the largest of the three. With the trenches deep enough the slain were bought out and carrier across the open area to the road close to the camp. The officers had debated the matter then found that some of their men had already set to work digging the grave trenches as far from the ruined town as possible. Every man of them felt laying the British dead to rest near the cursed ruin would be terribly wrong.
Once the dead had been placed in the trenches the entire force formed ranks. They had no padre with them but the Doctor bought out his bible and performed the ceremony and reading. His surprisingly clear voice carrying across the desert as he spoke the well known words.
Then the native workers were left to fill in the trenches and pile the dirt high to form mounds over the resting place of the fallen.
Very little was done for the rest of the day, the East India men muttered and grumbled at how they were being left to guard the whole camp day and night, but not close enough to be heard by an officer or any of the more aggressive red coats. They had been outside and had not seen the dead come walking and killing but they had only to look into the eyes of the men who had been there to know that what had happened was horrible beyond words.
That night was quiet, no shots were fired and no one raised a false alarm. The men of the company enjoyed a full night of sleep. Well most of them anyway.
A lamp burned late into the night and several hours into the following morning. The guard wondered if the normally careful general had left the lamp on but when he approached the tent flap he heard movement within and the faint scratching of pen on paper.
Doubtless the general was trying to fill the many reports that were needed. The army ran on paper and rules.
But the general was not filling any forms, nor was he writing reports. Instead he was writing and rewriting a letter to his granddaughter. Each time when he finished and read back his words he realised they did not explain what he meant to say. Finally he stopped writing when he realised that he could not write what he wanted because he did not truly understand what he wanted.
In his long years of service he had faced many enemies, he had won battles, he had even lost a few. He had led many men and not all of them came back. Death in battle was something to be expected, that an officer lost men was not a surprise.
What disturbed him was how many he had lost and the foe against whom he had fought. The memory of his hand shaking so much he could not reload his pistol came back to him again and again. How many years had it been. How many battles. The general spent the long silent hours of the night trying to remember the places where he had fought and the names of the enemies he had beaten.
The sky was beginning to lighten the tent when he realised he had been awake all night, his oil lamp had run dry several hours before and he had not even noticed. Was he too old for all of this, should he retire and return to the wet green fields of England.
But then who would command his men. War was coming and it was going to be more terrible than anything that had ever been seen. The full power of the new science was changing war into bloody slaughter that would make the events in the town look mild by comparison.
Who would take over the regiment and the garrison, who would take over the defence of Cairo. One of those new young colonels, anxious for battle and glory, uncaring of the casualties. Some young lord looking to make his name and impress those at Horseguards.
No. They were his men, he could not abandon them and return to peace and luxury while they continued to serve in the sand and the heat. Duty, it came down to Duty. Queen, country, the men under his command.
Duty.
Always Duty.
#
The second day after the battle things began to return to normal. Cavalry and infantry patrols of the area, drill and training. The routines of an army camp in the field. Normal, comforting. Slowly the terror of just two days ago began to lessen, not fade because every man who had been there would never forget it, but with days of peace a man could stand in the light of the hot Egyptian sun and the darkness seemed small and far away.
The Land ship Greyhound had made it back to the camp after the battle and settled there, now after a full day of not moving the boilers were fired up and the driver engaged the forward drive to move her. The grinding, screeching and cracking of metal startled the entire camp as her left side gearbox literally tore itself to pieces.
As Lieutenant Houseman reported at the days officers meeting, the land ship was completely immobilised and beyond the repair with the resources on hand. Fortunately he had requested a significant shipment of spares several days before when the damage to the gears had been noticed. The sand simply wore away the moving parts at such a rate that they had now used every spare they had bought with them. But a wagon load of replacements should be sent along with the reinforcements so while Greyhound was out of action for the present she would be repaired in a week or so and good for the return trip.
In the mean time she was a fortress inside the fortified camp.
Apart from Greyhound stores and supplies were acceptable. They retained sufficient ammunition for all weapons to fight another battle if required, though they lacked the men for any such engagement. Food was in good supply, some of the natives had found a good spot for a well so as water ran down a party could be set to digging one.
Still overall the command was in acceptable condition. If you chose not to notice the number of empty tents and the shortness of the morning roll call.
So everyone settled down to the normal routine, waiting for the reinforcements and supplies so they could return to Cairo.
#
On the fourth day after the battle sentry’s along the north side of the camp raised an alert. A dot in the clear blue sky was approaching at some speed. Shouts bought binoculars and a telescope and it quickly became clear that it was a small sleek airship, a dirigible. But whose?
As it came closer a shout went up, the Union flag was visible, painted on the bow of the dirigible hull.
Lieutenant Houseman called across the camp. “I say, that’s a swift. She’s a naval scout ship. Might be the one stationed at Cairo.”
The airship came over the camp, slowing and descending as it did so till it was no more than twenty feet above the dust. A crewman in naval seaman’s uniform opened a side door and shouted then dropped several ropes. The naval ratings from the Land ship contingent ran up and took hold of the ropes while the boson and two seamen set to hammering several long iron spikes into the ground to tie off the airship.
Once this was done the ship was lowered another ten feet and tied off securely. A rope ladder was dropped from the under slung cabin and two men climbed down. The first in the uniform of a Colonel of infantry, the second in the tropical suit of a gentleman or perhaps some civilian employee of Her Majesty overseas.
Both men reached the ground and looked around, the officer pointed towards the general and both men walked in that direction. The officer saluted, the civilian looked around at the many curious soldiers watching what was happening. “General, can we talk somewhere more private?”
In the privacy of the Generals tent it became clear that the army officer was deferring to the civilian in a way that said the man held considerable rank or power in the empire.
The civilian reached into his jacket and removed a leather case from an inside pocket, he carefully opened the case and took out a letter which he then passed to the general. The general sat on a stool beside the campaign table he used as a desk and opened the letter, it was well creased and had clearly been read a number of times. It carried the letterhead of Her Majesties Foreign Service and explained that the bearer was directly empowered to act as her representative and to speak in her name.
Summerby skipped over the rest of the letter and his gaze settled on the signatures at the bottom. He recognised several of them, the others he had not seen before but he knew the names. The Prime Minister, the Secretary of State for War, the Secretary at War, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, the Home Secretary. The signatures of the men that ran the empire. The civilian had waited while Summerby read the letter, then as the general looked up he reached across and took the letter back, carefully folding it and tucking it safely back into its leather case before he spoke. “You and your men have achieved a tremendous victory here General. You can imagine what would have happened in this had been a major city such as Cairo. It’s a great shame the book went missing, still we at least know about it know so if it ever turns up again we know what it can do.
Your campaign has been a great triumph, overwhelming numbers and all that, an entire rebel town, a thousand or more against your tiny force. Should read well in the Times next week. A fitting end to your outstanding career. Of course the exact details will never be revealed. Whatever you and your men saw here General, is never to be repeated. Never.
We have corrected your official reports and submitted your final dispatches, when you get back to Cairo you will find copies, please read them so you make no mistakes.
Then back to England, a very generous pension as reward for your many long years of service. If you wish to write your memoirs you will be required to submit them for approval before publishing, we can even help you with the final few chapters covering the events here.
Let me be very clear general. This was no more than a fight against a significant number of rebel tribesmen. You will receive formal orders in due course to confirm what I have said. Your men fought a magnificent battle, your recommendations for awards will all be met, heroes receiving medals, celebration of a victory and all that.
The colonel here will take command of the force here; your other officers will be carefully briefed as regards what did and did not happen. The colonel will also deal with your men.
It is most important that the more, how shall I put this, the more unusual aspects of this campaign against the rebels never see the light of day.
The safety of the Empire depends on it; think of the panic that would break out if people knew what had happened here. No, for the Empire you must remain silent, the truth must never be known.”
General Summerby was surprised, no he was shocked by the speed that this all seemed to be happening. In a strange sort of way it was his excuse, clear orders to remove his last lingering hesitation to retiring. His men were no longer under his command; he had nothing now to bind him to Egypt. His duty was gone, just like that.
Should he fight this, should he allow some nameless bureaucrat to treat him like this, he was a General, not some commoner to be ordered around like a servant. But suddenly he felt so tired, so exhausted, that the thought of refusing vanished.
“I don’t even know your name?” It seemed an odd thing to say but the general’s mind was whirling with so many thoughts, that was the first that came out.
“Smith, call me Mr Smith.
#
With the Generals sudden departure on the airship the remaining soldiers of first company, first battalion, 53rd (Shropshire) Regiment of Foot found themselves under the command of the new colonel. They were ordered to dig through the rubble and find any remaining dead from the fighting, all bodies were to be burned. Then once that was done the town was to be levelled, every wall and building smashed to rubble and dust.
Digging out the remains of the dead, especially after four days of hot sun, was a foul task and the men tried to avoid it wherever possible. Which is why when one of the lieutenants remembered the man in the leather coat they had killed down in the room under the town a number of men volunteered to fetch the body.
Two soldiers and a sergeant were duly dispatched and stepped into the fortified building, trepidation at the shadows within mixed with delight at the cool darkness. With a pair of lanterns lighting the way the three went down the stairs into the store room beneath the fortress, here the sergeant picked a nice crate, just the right height for him to sit on.
“You two get down the end there and drag that dead body out and if it so much as twitches blow its ruddy head off first.”
“Right sarge.”
The two men walked down the gently sloping tunnel to the bottom and stepped into the room at the end. Broken table and chairs, smashed shelves, pottery and odd powders spread on the floor. One of them shouted back up the tunnel.
“Ere sarge, what you on about, there’s no dead body down here!”
“Summerby General.” The general looked up.
“Abdul Rashid, was this the German, the man you came here to stop.” The Generals voice was barely more than a croak.
The tall Arab nodded, his hard face cast into shadows and flat planes under the bright light of the oil lamp.
“May God ensure that he suffers a thousand lifetimes of torment for what he has done. My family is avenged. Now we must destroy the book and my oath is fulfilled.”
The General looked at Lieutenant Fowler then around the room with its broken table and chairs, smashed shelves, pottery and odd powders spread on the floor.
“Did, did.” The general coughed to clear his throat.
“Did anyone find this cursed book?”
Fowler shook his head. “No general, everything is as we found it. Just this fellow. We saw no one else and that corridor is the only way in.”
Rashid interrupted. “The book is large, two feet each side. We must find it.”
Lieutenant Fowler shrugged his shoulders then gestured around the small room. “I’m sorry, it’s not here. There is nowhere to hide anything of any size, we have already looked.”
The Arab took several steps into the room and with his free hand swept the few remaining pots and boxes off the shelves to hatter on the floor. “It must be here, God led me here, the book must be here!”
Having turned over every piece of debris in the room the Arab turned angrily towards the door with every intention of leaving.
“STOP.” General Summerby’s voice echoed in the small room. “We only have one lamp.”
Abdul Rashid paused, he glanced from the general to the oil lamp and back. Then he hung his head in acceptance of the situation.
Summerby walked across the disheartened man and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I have no less desire to have this ended that you do but running around in the darkness achieves nothing. Light the way out for us and I will send a squad of men with every lantern we possess to tear every square foot of this place apart. If the book is here we will find it, but we will search for it properly, carefully. Do you understand me?”
When Rashid nodded the general turned to the men of his command. “Gentlemen, let us leave this place.”
#
The journey back to the surface was without further adventure and soon all of them were blinking as they stepped back into the bright light of the sun. Orders were given to bring additional oil lamps and sergeant Troutman was detailed to assemble a squad to search the building and underground rooms carefully alongside Rashid.
The other officers separated to take command of various parts of the town and supervise the continuing search for any remaining walking corpses or other threats.
By the time the sun was low in the hills the town was declared secure, no remaining threat had been uncovered and every building and room had been searched. Given the reputation the place had gained no one was willing to spend the night and so the entire force withdrew back to the fortified camp site beside the road. Guards were posted to watch for any activity in the town during the darkness but aside from that unlucky few every other man returned to the camp.
In order to deal with the state of the British soldiers the General ordered the East India Company to take over all guard posts for the night. The officer commanding that force considered arguing but having heard the many stories of the days fighting and having looked the general in the eye he did no more than salute and walk away to assign his men to their new posts.
Overnight there were a few false alarms, frightened men fired at shadows or shrub bushes stirred by a light breeze. No one slept well and by dawn the entire force was tired and either angry of fearful. Sergeants came down hard on any attitude or disobedience and outwardly the camp returned to normal, differently only in the lack of red coats on sight.
As soon as the sun was touching the horizon a courier was made ready. He was given reports and dispatches for Cairo, most urgent. Reinforcements, supplies and everything else the force would need. As the rider walked his horse to the edge of the camp he was again approached by the doctor who added another letter to the message pouch slung over the couriers shoulder.
The first task that day was burial. So many had died and it had taken so long to secure the town that those who had fallen during the day had been placed in several intact buildings in the town. Now before the heat of the day did its work every walking soldier was assembled along with all of the native workers and levy.
Rather than individual graves large trenches were dug, one for each platoon. Second platoons trench being by far the largest of the three. With the trenches deep enough the slain were bought out and carrier across the open area to the road close to the camp. The officers had debated the matter then found that some of their men had already set to work digging the grave trenches as far from the ruined town as possible. Every man of them felt laying the British dead to rest near the cursed ruin would be terribly wrong.
Once the dead had been placed in the trenches the entire force formed ranks. They had no padre with them but the Doctor bought out his bible and performed the ceremony and reading. His surprisingly clear voice carrying across the desert as he spoke the well known words.
Then the native workers were left to fill in the trenches and pile the dirt high to form mounds over the resting place of the fallen.
Very little was done for the rest of the day, the East India men muttered and grumbled at how they were being left to guard the whole camp day and night, but not close enough to be heard by an officer or any of the more aggressive red coats. They had been outside and had not seen the dead come walking and killing but they had only to look into the eyes of the men who had been there to know that what had happened was horrible beyond words.
That night was quiet, no shots were fired and no one raised a false alarm. The men of the company enjoyed a full night of sleep. Well most of them anyway.
A lamp burned late into the night and several hours into the following morning. The guard wondered if the normally careful general had left the lamp on but when he approached the tent flap he heard movement within and the faint scratching of pen on paper.
Doubtless the general was trying to fill the many reports that were needed. The army ran on paper and rules.
But the general was not filling any forms, nor was he writing reports. Instead he was writing and rewriting a letter to his granddaughter. Each time when he finished and read back his words he realised they did not explain what he meant to say. Finally he stopped writing when he realised that he could not write what he wanted because he did not truly understand what he wanted.
In his long years of service he had faced many enemies, he had won battles, he had even lost a few. He had led many men and not all of them came back. Death in battle was something to be expected, that an officer lost men was not a surprise.
What disturbed him was how many he had lost and the foe against whom he had fought. The memory of his hand shaking so much he could not reload his pistol came back to him again and again. How many years had it been. How many battles. The general spent the long silent hours of the night trying to remember the places where he had fought and the names of the enemies he had beaten.
The sky was beginning to lighten the tent when he realised he had been awake all night, his oil lamp had run dry several hours before and he had not even noticed. Was he too old for all of this, should he retire and return to the wet green fields of England.
But then who would command his men. War was coming and it was going to be more terrible than anything that had ever been seen. The full power of the new science was changing war into bloody slaughter that would make the events in the town look mild by comparison.
Who would take over the regiment and the garrison, who would take over the defence of Cairo. One of those new young colonels, anxious for battle and glory, uncaring of the casualties. Some young lord looking to make his name and impress those at Horseguards.
No. They were his men, he could not abandon them and return to peace and luxury while they continued to serve in the sand and the heat. Duty, it came down to Duty. Queen, country, the men under his command.
Duty.
Always Duty.
#
The second day after the battle things began to return to normal. Cavalry and infantry patrols of the area, drill and training. The routines of an army camp in the field. Normal, comforting. Slowly the terror of just two days ago began to lessen, not fade because every man who had been there would never forget it, but with days of peace a man could stand in the light of the hot Egyptian sun and the darkness seemed small and far away.
The Land ship Greyhound had made it back to the camp after the battle and settled there, now after a full day of not moving the boilers were fired up and the driver engaged the forward drive to move her. The grinding, screeching and cracking of metal startled the entire camp as her left side gearbox literally tore itself to pieces.
As Lieutenant Houseman reported at the days officers meeting, the land ship was completely immobilised and beyond the repair with the resources on hand. Fortunately he had requested a significant shipment of spares several days before when the damage to the gears had been noticed. The sand simply wore away the moving parts at such a rate that they had now used every spare they had bought with them. But a wagon load of replacements should be sent along with the reinforcements so while Greyhound was out of action for the present she would be repaired in a week or so and good for the return trip.
In the mean time she was a fortress inside the fortified camp.
Apart from Greyhound stores and supplies were acceptable. They retained sufficient ammunition for all weapons to fight another battle if required, though they lacked the men for any such engagement. Food was in good supply, some of the natives had found a good spot for a well so as water ran down a party could be set to digging one.
Still overall the command was in acceptable condition. If you chose not to notice the number of empty tents and the shortness of the morning roll call.
So everyone settled down to the normal routine, waiting for the reinforcements and supplies so they could return to Cairo.
#
On the fourth day after the battle sentry’s along the north side of the camp raised an alert. A dot in the clear blue sky was approaching at some speed. Shouts bought binoculars and a telescope and it quickly became clear that it was a small sleek airship, a dirigible. But whose?
As it came closer a shout went up, the Union flag was visible, painted on the bow of the dirigible hull.
Lieutenant Houseman called across the camp. “I say, that’s a swift. She’s a naval scout ship. Might be the one stationed at Cairo.”
The airship came over the camp, slowing and descending as it did so till it was no more than twenty feet above the dust. A crewman in naval seaman’s uniform opened a side door and shouted then dropped several ropes. The naval ratings from the Land ship contingent ran up and took hold of the ropes while the boson and two seamen set to hammering several long iron spikes into the ground to tie off the airship.
Once this was done the ship was lowered another ten feet and tied off securely. A rope ladder was dropped from the under slung cabin and two men climbed down. The first in the uniform of a Colonel of infantry, the second in the tropical suit of a gentleman or perhaps some civilian employee of Her Majesty overseas.
Both men reached the ground and looked around, the officer pointed towards the general and both men walked in that direction. The officer saluted, the civilian looked around at the many curious soldiers watching what was happening. “General, can we talk somewhere more private?”
In the privacy of the Generals tent it became clear that the army officer was deferring to the civilian in a way that said the man held considerable rank or power in the empire.
The civilian reached into his jacket and removed a leather case from an inside pocket, he carefully opened the case and took out a letter which he then passed to the general. The general sat on a stool beside the campaign table he used as a desk and opened the letter, it was well creased and had clearly been read a number of times. It carried the letterhead of Her Majesties Foreign Service and explained that the bearer was directly empowered to act as her representative and to speak in her name.
Summerby skipped over the rest of the letter and his gaze settled on the signatures at the bottom. He recognised several of them, the others he had not seen before but he knew the names. The Prime Minister, the Secretary of State for War, the Secretary at War, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, the Home Secretary. The signatures of the men that ran the empire. The civilian had waited while Summerby read the letter, then as the general looked up he reached across and took the letter back, carefully folding it and tucking it safely back into its leather case before he spoke. “You and your men have achieved a tremendous victory here General. You can imagine what would have happened in this had been a major city such as Cairo. It’s a great shame the book went missing, still we at least know about it know so if it ever turns up again we know what it can do.
Your campaign has been a great triumph, overwhelming numbers and all that, an entire rebel town, a thousand or more against your tiny force. Should read well in the Times next week. A fitting end to your outstanding career. Of course the exact details will never be revealed. Whatever you and your men saw here General, is never to be repeated. Never.
We have corrected your official reports and submitted your final dispatches, when you get back to Cairo you will find copies, please read them so you make no mistakes.
Then back to England, a very generous pension as reward for your many long years of service. If you wish to write your memoirs you will be required to submit them for approval before publishing, we can even help you with the final few chapters covering the events here.
Let me be very clear general. This was no more than a fight against a significant number of rebel tribesmen. You will receive formal orders in due course to confirm what I have said. Your men fought a magnificent battle, your recommendations for awards will all be met, heroes receiving medals, celebration of a victory and all that.
The colonel here will take command of the force here; your other officers will be carefully briefed as regards what did and did not happen. The colonel will also deal with your men.
It is most important that the more, how shall I put this, the more unusual aspects of this campaign against the rebels never see the light of day.
The safety of the Empire depends on it; think of the panic that would break out if people knew what had happened here. No, for the Empire you must remain silent, the truth must never be known.”
General Summerby was surprised, no he was shocked by the speed that this all seemed to be happening. In a strange sort of way it was his excuse, clear orders to remove his last lingering hesitation to retiring. His men were no longer under his command; he had nothing now to bind him to Egypt. His duty was gone, just like that.
Should he fight this, should he allow some nameless bureaucrat to treat him like this, he was a General, not some commoner to be ordered around like a servant. But suddenly he felt so tired, so exhausted, that the thought of refusing vanished.
“I don’t even know your name?” It seemed an odd thing to say but the general’s mind was whirling with so many thoughts, that was the first that came out.
“Smith, call me Mr Smith.
#
With the Generals sudden departure on the airship the remaining soldiers of first company, first battalion, 53rd (Shropshire) Regiment of Foot found themselves under the command of the new colonel. They were ordered to dig through the rubble and find any remaining dead from the fighting, all bodies were to be burned. Then once that was done the town was to be levelled, every wall and building smashed to rubble and dust.
Digging out the remains of the dead, especially after four days of hot sun, was a foul task and the men tried to avoid it wherever possible. Which is why when one of the lieutenants remembered the man in the leather coat they had killed down in the room under the town a number of men volunteered to fetch the body.
Two soldiers and a sergeant were duly dispatched and stepped into the fortified building, trepidation at the shadows within mixed with delight at the cool darkness. With a pair of lanterns lighting the way the three went down the stairs into the store room beneath the fortress, here the sergeant picked a nice crate, just the right height for him to sit on.
“You two get down the end there and drag that dead body out and if it so much as twitches blow its ruddy head off first.”
“Right sarge.”
The two men walked down the gently sloping tunnel to the bottom and stepped into the room at the end. Broken table and chairs, smashed shelves, pottery and odd powders spread on the floor. One of them shouted back up the tunnel.
“Ere sarge, what you on about, there’s no dead body down here!”